


i could be the one that would make you want to stay

by inflame



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, Drinking & Talking, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Sexual Content, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Post-Time Skip, Recipes, Sort Of, in one part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflame/pseuds/inflame
Summary: “Kunimi-san,” he calls out. “Kunimi-san, water,” he says. “Nice work, Kunimi-san!” he exclaims. None of the other ball boys even attempted to give you what you needed. Only he did. Flabbergasted by the commonality of the scene throughout the week, you walk away with confusion in your eyes.It sucks, you think, as your name suddenly became wrapped in honey and warmth.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kunimi Akira
Comments: 11
Kudos: 81





	i could be the one that would make you want to stay

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm offering you my first ever fluff piece. My friend made me listen to the first song on [**this playlist**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4urNkDF57z7G2PPUD51sMv?si=f7zdXPpsSxaPhEZ9EUz5_w) and I felt like it kinda fits a Hinata ship.
> 
> I wondered which other character to pair him up with, and yeah Kunimi just felt… right. Also the dynamics of kunihina intrigued me so, yeah. I’m quite happy with my first attempt at fluff so, I hope you enjoy this! And I hope that you’ll like this pair as much as I do.

**** I told you like I mean it, tell you all my secrets  
I could take you dancin', I'm not the romantic type  
What can I do? It's love and I got the proof  
**_Everybody Wants You by Red Hearse_**

\----

**It begins with an unfamiliar boy in an unfamiliar court.**

Shiratorizawa, home of the elites, now filled with freshmen from the different parts of Miyagi for volleyball training. You think it’s absurd. It’s fun to play, especially when you win but a camp with rivals? Absolutely not. Unfortunately, the coach asked you and Kindaichi to join it regardless of what you think and so here you are, standing with your arms at your back, eyes focused in front until you see tangerine-colored hair bobbing at your left and so you turn. _Ah, this will be interesting to see_ , you say to yourself. Everyone, including the seniors that have yet to come, will be dying to beat Hinata Shouyou. That is, until, you realize that he wasn’t even invited to the camp. _He sneaked in?_ You think. _That’s brilliant_. You snort and Kindaichi looks at you with disdain. He asks you later on why you did that on the way to the dining hall.

“It’s funny how he had that idea.” You say, hands in your pockets.

“Well yeah, he’s weird, for sure.” Kindaichi responds.

“Weird?”

“Yeah don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” You lie. _Weird? No, not really. But, interesting?_ _Perhaps._

That should have been your first clue.

Hinata Shouyou. A boy full of wonder and tenacity. On the court, he is continuously experimenting on tricks and moves. You won’t know his next act until he’s already right in front of you, arms stretched out, palm in contact with the ball, and it lands on your court. It’s irritating, the vibrance of his smile, the excitement in his voice as you bid the court goodbye with the rest of the team in low spirits. You go home instantly, thinking about him, his face, how he’s everything you’re not. He’s the physical embodiment of glee, bowing to no cloud nor rain, when you’re in fact settling in the shadows, showing your glory only once or twice, never leaving an imprint in anyone’s mind. This boy is simply hard to forget. You think he annoys you, how despite crashing in your practice, he still stays, agreeing to that preposterous decision of the head coach of being a ball boy. If it were you, you would have gone home instantly, or better yet, you wouldn’t even think of this in the first place. And yet, he did, he’s still with them, picking up stray balls, filling up bottles, washing uniforms. Hinata Shouyou bows down to no one, unlike you who never thought of anything but to do the bare minimum.

 _This sucks_ , you say as you twist and turn in your bed. Your mind plays the scenes of him giving you a bottle, a towel with a smile, as if he wasn’t rejected by the coach. It is then followed by a kind, “here you go, Kunimi-san”. Throughout the days, your name rolls out of his tongue more often than you would hope, as if it was done on purpose. “Kunimi-san,” he calls out. “Kunimi-san, water,” he says. “Nice work, Kunimi-san!” he exclaims. None of the other ball boys even attempted to give you what you needed. Only he did. Flabbergasted by the commonality of the scene throughout the week, you walk away with confusion in your eyes. 

_It sucks_ , you think, as your name suddenly became wrapped in honey and warmth. 

That should have been your second clue.

Interactions remain minimal with initiation coming from his end. Until, that is, when you play and he is in charge of the scoreboard. In the court, you are opponents, but as a ball boy and a player, he is an onlooker, and you are under scrutiny. His bright, large hazel eyes are on you and only you. You feel the intensity of it, how he watches you, how he analyzes your moves. You are being observed by boy wonder who is under everyone’s radar. Who are you, to be given such attention? You are a simple boy playing a sport you know best. What power does the boy have that you realize you gave it your all during that game? It feels invigorating, you realize, and so you give it your best again, and again. You play the game as if it was a match in the Sendai gymnasium. Until Kindaichi realizes what you’ve been doing.

“You’re tired.”

“I am.”

“For the first time, I’ve seen you give your all, and it’s not even an official game. Are you sick?”

“No, just,” You stop at your tracks realizing what you’ve done. “I don’t know. Just felt like it.”

“Hm,” Kindaichi says beside you. “That does sound like you.”

“Yeah,” You say.

You walk a few more steps until Kindaichi opens his mouth again.

“Hinata was looking at you the whole time.”

 _I know._ “Really?”

“Are you serious? You didn’t even notice?”

“I felt it, just didn’t know where it was coming from.” _Liar._

“Ah that makes sense. Still isn’t it weird?”

You nod. _There it is again. It’s not weird,_ you wanted to say. And yet, you stayed silent. You wanted to tell him how you knew, how you knew he was watching you from the moment you stepped foot in the court until the moment he gave you your water with a stutter, with a sheepish sugared version of your name. It was never weird for you. It was always interesting, how his actions kept you on your toes, on high alert. Not because of fear but because of something else. You still can’t put a name on it, and you rarely experience this feeling.

That should have been the final nail in the coffin.

On the final day of the camp, as you sit on the floor waiting for your turn, there it is again. Your name, his lips, your curiosity, and apparently, his as well. 

“Kunimi-san,” he begins. “Can I ask you a question?”

For the first time, you look up to him, his hair more vibrant up close, almost blinding. You struggle with the words yet again and settle with a nod.

He asks you about receiving, the angle of bended knees, of your arms, of how much power you should receive it with. You tell him what you know, with minimal words and action. 

“Ah, thank you, Kunimi-san!” He says, about to trod away, away from you. You want to say something, anything, keeping him closer, closing that distance of mere opponents. You do.

“Kunimi.” You whisper, hoping he didn’t hear you.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, he turns his head with eyebrows raised. You sigh.

“Just Kunimi’s fine.”

You swear his eyes sparkled. You choose to omit this to your report to Kindaichi. You simply tell him, “he asked something about receiving. That’s it.” But it wasn’t just that for you, wasn’t it? You sleep with pain in your abdomen, thinking you would actually prefer swallowing butterflies instead of this.

Your eyes shot up open, realizing then what it was. You can see the similar scenario of it in middle school, how boy genius Kageyama was at the center of your attention for a while, a little longer than usual. With his stances and forms, elegant and sure of himself. But an incident happens and you see him no longer under a halo. This time, it was boy wonder Hinata that made you rethink your actions, your words, hoping you’ll say the right ones when he’s present. It’s weird, it’s different, it’s definitely not you. You settle with the fact that he intrigues you, in more ways than one. How he smiles brightly, how the world seems to always go the way he wants it to be. You no longer want to be him, you realize, and that it wasn’t envy that you were feeling in the past. It was, indeed, something else. You decide you won’t put a name on it, a face to it, hoping it goes away.

In the afternoon, as you walk away from the unfamiliar school, you look once more at the familiar boy. His hair turning a slightly warmer orange, the sunset’s rays bouncing off the sharp edges. He looks better under the sun, you realize. He belongs there anyway. 

“See you,” You say, as aloof as it can get. Hinata waves his arms above his head.

You wish he called you one more time.

“I won’t lose to you Kindaichi, Kunimi!” He shouts at the top of his lungs. Kindaichi turns around and waves back. You don’t and just smile to yourself.

You wish it wouldn’t be his last.

\---

**It continues with an unfamiliar boy in a familiar store.**

Of all places, you at age twenty-one did not expect you would see him again in a seven-eleven, with your hand on a basket full of beer and chips. Examination week is finally done, and it has become a habit of yours to drink to celebrate. Sadly, Kindaichi still had exams and so you were going to celebrate alone in your little university apartment. Just as you were about to get the eighth can, a voice called out your name.

“Kunimi?” 

You turn and see him. You don’t recognize him, until your eyes fall on those hazel irises. He was wearing an MSBY hoodie, carrying his own basket of goods. His hair is shorter, he grew taller, his build showed more muscle, peeking through his rolled up sleeves. He was tanned, his color clearly showing his time along the beaches of Brazil, something you heard and possibly searched online, since the last contact you had with the boy was in your third year. You shook his hand across the net, never to see him again. Before he bumped into you again in this small convenience store.

“Hinata.” You say. You realize it was your first time saying his name. You just went to see the Jackals and Adlers game a few days ago with Kindaichi. Now, he’s here in front of you, in the flesh. 

He takes a look at your basket.

“Ah, long day?” 

“Long week, rather. Just finished with exams.” You’re shocked at how easily you share information now. It must be the campus life, the fatigue or simply, the desire to catch up.

“Ah, I see. With Kindaichi?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “Just me.”

“All those on your own?” You nod. He nods in return.

Funnily enough, these were one of those days where you simply did not have the strength to put up the same front back in high school. It was different now, _you_ were different now. And so with all the stress, relief, and other emotions university gave you, you ask him.

“Unless you want to join me?”

You regret it almost instantly, until you see him think. Until you see him close his eyes, deep in thought, _considering_ it. You’re sixteen, everything’s dark, gloomy until you spot the sole sunshine in the midst of crows. You’re twenty-one, and nothing has changed. Not even the distance, not even the growth, can change what you’re feeling.

“Sure, let me just pay for these.” Hinata says, as he walks to the counter.

“Are you serious?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’ll just message the team that I’ll go home later than usual.” He says and goes to the counter.

You’re suddenly in deep trouble and it is only eight in the evening.

You can vaguely remember the walk from the convenient store to your apartment. He shared his stories in Brazil, his roommate, his partner in beach volleyball. You told him how you’re in your final year, in an economics course, and that you weren’t playing anymore. He says that it sounds interesting, with no hint of ingenuity. You try to believe that it is. He blurts out that he’s sad that you’re no longer playing volleyball. You try to believe that too.

Now, you’re sitting on the floor. In front of you is a disheveled man, vibrant-colored strands falling out of place. You’re on your third can, and Hinata’s on his second. You could see the flush in his cheeks and hear the slurs that he makes. Yet, your eyes couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful mess that he is.

“You know,” He begins. “I never thought when I get home, you’d be one of the first ones I’d spend time with.”

“Neither did I, Hinata.” You say, still amazed at how his name comes out of your lips.

“I like it though.” 

“That you’re here?”

“Yeah. I mean, I really missed playing with you! God, how I hated your spikes, and how precise they are. It was so cool. ” _Ah,_ you realize. _He only sees me as a player._

“And, I really wanted to get to know you.” He says as he sips from his can. “So, I will.” He stands up and sits beside you, his face about six inches away from yours. You both reek of alcohol, and yet you don’t mind the stupid grins plastered on your faces.

“Well, what do you want to know?” You ask, a little too eagerly.

“Hmm,” He thinks, as he closes his eyes and puts his index and thumb on his chin, deep in thought. You smirk at how he can still be the same Hinata you had seen in the camp. 

And so it begins with simple questions, generic ones that can be found in government documents. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until it makes its way to Hinata again.

“Ah! Tell me one thing about yourself that you wish other people knew more. Be honest.” 

“That’s a hard question. Be kind, I just finished my finals.” You earn a light smack on your back.

“Alright,” You start. “I wish... that people knew I give my best even though it doesn’t seem like it, even though I seem like I don’t care.” You sigh and drink from the can, finishing your fourth. You turn to the side and you earn a glare in return. 

“What? You told me to be honest.”

“But I already knew that, Kunimi!” He exclaims, flailing his arms at his sides. 

You stare at him wide-eyed. “You knew?” 

“Of course I did! I watch you all the time. During games with other teams, during camp, during practice matches. I always do so that’s not fair!” He says, as he slides down the floor, but he props himself back up again. You snort at him acting like a child.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you looked at me.”

“Was it really hard to believe? I mean I thought I was being obvious.”

“I was in the shadows. I was in no one’s radar, to be honest.”

“Well sorry to break it to you, but you were in mine. More often than I would have wanted.” He blurts out. Seconds later, he stares at the can on the table, realizing what he just said.

Silence reigns the room as you open your fifth can. You take a sip, still processing what had just happened.

“I was?” You ask.

Hinata sighs and nods. 

“Until now?”

Hinata slowly nods again. 

“Good,” You reply. “I was drawn to you, since camp.”

He smiles, his bright teeth glimmering as chuckles escape his lips. “I know.”

You laugh. “You know everything, Hinata. That’s pretty unfair of you.”

He moves closer, closing the distance between you, with your thighs touching already.

“I don’t know everything, Kunimi.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know what it feels like to hold you,” He pushes himself towards you,

“to touch you,” He stands on his knees, caging in your legs, his hands at your sides,

“to kiss you.”

You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer. He loses balance and falls on your lap, his face merely a few centimeters away, his hazel eyes staring at your lips. He leans in, his hands resting on your jaw. His thumb caressing your bottom lip, teasing you, smiling menacingly.

You smile. “What are you waiting for then, Hinata? I’m all yours to have.”

Hinata kisses you, as you lean against the window, with his arms sliding past your neck, finding its place at your nape. His knees resting at your sides, discovering a sense of home in your arms, on your lips. It is everything and nothing like you’ve ever dreamed of. It continues on, your tongues sliding past each other, wet and desperate. You find out Hinata tastes sweet, electric, dreams fulfilled, bursting with ambition and answered wishes. Hinata moans against your mouth and you feel like you could ravage him through the night. So you would. You fold your knees and stand up, placing your hands at his back. He leaves your mouth and puts his full attention on your neck, pushing the collar further away. Hinata’s tongue circling your flesh, seemingly awaiting for its prey until his mouth lunges in, sucking in. It will definitely bruise in the morning, but you don’t care. Especially when Hinata, boy wonder, pulls you closer as you push him on the bed. You snake up to him and cage him in your arms. Your eyes scan him from his forehead, down to his flushed cheeks and swollen lips, searching for doubt, fear, a reason to leave your arms tonight.

And, if this was not made evident throughout the night, Hinata reminds you as his fingers run through your hair. He smiles. 

“Have me, Kunimi.”

You then let desire, and longing run through the night. Your bed has never been home to more than a body and yet, against the linen, as Hinata rests his chin on your pillow, with his back facing you, it seems as if he was made to arc like that, with euphonious pleasure escaping his lips. It was as if Hinata Shouyou was made to feel indulgence from you, and only you. He calls out to you in various degrees. _Kunimi,_ that felt longing. _Kunimi_ , synonymous to a plea. _Kunimi,_ a whisper of gratitude to this fortuity. Bruised, tired, devoted, you lay in the mess. He moves closer to you and you kiss him on his shoulder. Unfamiliar boy once again becomes familiar, seen in a light you thought would never come. 

You wake up, and he’s still in your arms. _Kunimi,_ he says with certainty. _Hinata,_ you whisper as you push his hair away from his face, full of affection. You separate with a promise, spelled with a chaste kiss. It will be a common scene in your story, you tell yourself. You’ll be left alone here, as he continues on with his aspirations, promises with different people yet to be fulfilled. You will wait here for him, in your little town, in your little apartment. But it would be worth it. It would be worth it, you say, as he tells you he can’t wait to introduce you to the team, to his family, reintroduce you to his friends as his lover, instead of a rival. As he walks away from you, you find comfort in his words.

True to his utterance, he returns at night, in the following evening, and in the next. You find it harder and harder each day to picture your place without him, sitting at the dining table, preparing a meal for two. You pick up a thing or two from him, dishes taught by his mother, by his roommate in Brazil. Never have you felt the rush, the concerning speed of your relationship. It felt right, it felt as if the stars aligned that night in the seven-eleven. You ask him nonetheless.

“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You ask, fearing his response.

“No,” He answers instantly. “I mean. I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

“How long have you wanted me, then?” You ask again.

“Since camp. Since I saw you.”

You tell yourself then that you’re simply never going to get used to this, the fact that Hinata has _also_ taken a chance on you and has wanted you ever since that day. He asks you too. You smile in response.

You maneuver through this with him, this new area you have yet to explore. Everything is new and difficult, especially when you’ve only shared a few drunken kisses, a one night stand or two, absent from care or feelings in the past. And now, laying bare right in front of your eyes is a chance at everything you have secretly hoped for. 

You learn through time, through mistakes, how to settle arguments, from small problems such as forgetting to clean your apartment to rather larger ones such as forgetting to mention a hangout with a friend. Never did Hinata walk out nor lash out but he tells you what he feels so you could understand his perspective. You explain yourself and with the conversation, you finally understand his point of view. You tell him you keep promises, a thing you learned by heart from your mother. He responds with a soft, “okay”. You pick up dirty laundry, you call him. You surprise him sometimes outside their gym, after a four-hour train trip, and he jumps into your arms already full of sunflowers. He introduces you to his teammates, his eyes shining. He showers you with kisses as you lay in the hotel bed talking about the sport you both love. With limited time, you learn that it won’t be easy, it never will, but when he smiles at you, when he calls your attention, you believe that it is.

“You two make an odd couple,” Kindaichi once said while you eat lunch, as you finally tell him.

“Let me guess,” You say after swallowing a bite from your burger. “We’re weird together?”

“Yeah, who knew those looks meant something?” Kindaichi smiles. “But finally, right?”

You smirk. “Finally.”

You realize you _are_ an odd couple. Your personalities, or at least what you let others see, are polar opposites. He’s vibrant, a soul that exudes the sun and you with your principles of energy preservation, exude a gloomy weather on a Wednesday afternoon. Yet, something clicks, when you’re with Hinata, when he gets a break from training and flies out to Miyagi for at most three days. You instantly share one mind and soul as you play with unconventionality. Like children, you explore the nightlife of Miyagi running around, beating red lights. With hands linked to one another, you let him guide you amidst the crowd of people, something you were never fond of. Now you don’t mind it at all. You eat in fast food restaurants, sneaking in an onigiri or two from the convenience store. You don’t bother asking why, and find solace in the rich laugh coming from him, finding it funny to slightly break rules. You swing your arms as you find movies to watch in the theater. You watch for a little bit, and escape the guards and visit another theater showing a different film. You giggle all throughout the ordeal, with Hinata leaning on your chest, he himself filled with happiness.

“Who knew reversible jackets would come in handy?” You whisper.

“That film was too boring, good thing this one’s better.” He tells you. A woman looks with disgust. You both put your index finger to your lips. She looks back to the screen. You walk out, earning no suspicion from the ticket booths.

At night in your apartment, as you carry him on your back, tiredly laughing from too much beer and karaoke, he nibbles on your ear and peppers kisses on your neck. You laugh at the peculiarity and sweetness of it all. 

“Kunimi,” He says as you lay him down on his bed. Your eyes meet.

“I like it when I’m weird with you.” He tells you as he brings his fingers, dragging it up from your nape into your hair. You lean in and kiss his nose.

“I like it too. God, you have no idea.” You breathe, the air getting thicker and thicker.

“Oh, I do.” He whispers. “But I’ll pretend I won’t so you have to show me.”

“How much I like it?”

He nods, and so you do, all night long.

In a span of two years, you meet his mother and Natsu, and you often find yourself in their home, helping with their dinner, helping Natsu sometimes with her homework. You comprehend then how Hinata can be enamored by his beloved sister. You rekindle your relations with his previous teammates in Karasuno. There was no hostility in the beginning as Hinata introduces you to them as his boyfriend. Since Kageyama is in Tokyo, you settle for a video call. 

“Take care of him,” He says, once Hinata is busy with Sugawara and his other seniors.

“Of course.” You reply. _That’s a promise._

“And let him take care of you.” 

You are rendered speechless by how much he knew about you. 

“Yeah, Kageyama. Okay.” You smile. He nods along. You catch up, for once. You see that he finally smiles. You form again a bond, something childhood friends have.

Thankfully, he gets to coincide his break with your spring graduation. You made him swear that he won’t howl as you walk on stage and get your diploma. He promises but once you get on stage you hear an intensified clapping from the end of the hall. You don’t apprehend him later on, and just kiss him harder. Your sister takes a picture of you two. He takes a picture of you with your family, with Kindaichi and a few of more of your friends, too. You hear some murmurs, asking why MSBY and national athlete Hinata Shouyou is attending the graduation and that they’re so lucky to see him outside the Sendai Gymnasium. You have dinner with Hinata and your family afterwards. Hinata’s mother and Natsu join later. Your families meet and it’s just one big happy event. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, from the acceptance you received from both ends. You and Hinata go home to your apartment and collapse on the mattress, tired from the events that transpired throughout the week. 

When the Olympics finally begins, you spend the whole duration sleeping over at Kindaichi’s to watch. Your eyes remain glued to the screen, not even bothering to cheer. Your heart stops for a second or two every single time you spot tangerine-colored hair with the rest of the national team lineup. Kindaichi has to slap you at the back for you to get a sense of reality. Day and night you remain hoping and wishing that he won’t fall ill or receive any injuries. Win or lose, you just want him to come home to you in one piece, here in Miyagi. He does, as promised, with different colored medals hanging from his neck. He runs into your embrace in the airport, as you bury your face in his hair, and his legs wrap around your thighs. The kisses you share seem infinite as you hold onto him in your bed, as he continues to tell you the stories of how Oikawa-san was amazing across the court, how Kageyama and Atsumu-san synced up with him, how Bokuto-san delivered one of the coolest spikes ever. You listen and listen, hoping it wouldn’t end.

The extent of his stay remains temporary as he receives a call from Brazil, inviting him to the Asas São Paulo team. He remains silent during dinner in your apartment, preventing himself from celebrating. You sigh at him staying quiet, wishing that he didn’t feel guilty for wanting to go. You know that you’d let him go even if he says he wants to stay. You, yourself wish he would achieve his dreams before he goes home to you for good. Besides, before he belonged to you, he belonged to the world.

“Hinata,” You call to him, kneeling in front of him as he avoids your eyes. 

“Hinata,” You call again. He looks.

“We’ll be okay.” You assure him. Of course you will, you assure yourself. Distance nor time may not be at your side, but you _had_ to let him go.

“I’ll come back.” He promises, despite the tears already flowing. “I’ll definitely come back.”

You hug him tightly. You don’t let him go until you fall asleep in bed. 

The next days remain a blur full of goodbyes to the MSBY team and his friends. You help him pack his belongings from his home, comforting Natsu that her brother won’t be gone for long. You explore the streets of Miyagi again, no longer running, savoring the time you have with each other. Playfully, you push him to a small alleyway and kiss him senselessly. He brings you closer, your knee pushing towards his center. He moans against your mouth. Your breaths get heavier, the air gets thicker, hunger running wild in your minds. You both abruptly decide to go home immediately and get take-out instead. 

He strips his clothes immediately and lets you devour the rest of him. You placed kisses on his bare skin, whispering _mine, mine, mine,_ over and over again. He lays against the sheets, moaning your name like the first time. He clenches onto you as you prop his leg up. You tell him to relax, he doesn’t and just closes his eyes. You kiss his inner thighs, telling him it will be alright. He does eventually, and you both climax at the same time. You lose count throughout the night how many times you went and reached the apex. You pant as you cradle him in your arms. He lays his head on your chest, whispering _mine, mine, mine._ You both doze off to sleep.

In the morning, you see that he is laying on his chest, the sun reflecting on his shoulder blades. His own sunshine resting at his nape, as he looks at you with so much love. With this, you decide to make something up, something only you two will understand.

“Hinata,”

“Hmm?”

“Will you write me a recipe?”

He looks at you, thinking you finally want to make something he taught you.

“Finally! I know this one that tastes good and I’ve tried making it at home with Pedro. _Coxinha_ , it’s called. Or-”

“Hinata Shouyou.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to remember. No need for the full name.”

“No, I mean,” You say as you run your fingers down his spine. “Write me a recipe of you.”

He turns and looks at you. Endearment and confusion, mixed in within those hazel eyes. 

“For what?”

“So I won’t miss you too much that it would drive me crazy.”

After a while, he laughs and buries his face on your pillow. He continues to laugh, making you think it was something wrong, until he smiles and kisses you on your forehead.

“Okay.”

On the day he leaves for Brazil, you bring him to the airport. You share a long hug, a tear or two, and a kiss that meant _see you later._ You see him turn his back as he takes on a 34-hour flight away from you.

When you go home, you examine the apartment and feel the trace he left. His jacket hanging on your door is gone, luggage no longer resting atop the floor near his side of the bed. His half is clean, the creases on the sheets smoothened out, as if there weren’t any body that danced in pleasure the night before.

You sigh as you sit on your side of the bed. At the corner, you could see the coffee table with a plate full of salmon, rice, a bowl of miso soup, saran-wrapped to keep it fresh. _That’s why he made me get the cab._ You smile at the scene, realizing the fact that in the near future, you’d rather have someone waiting for you near the table, asking you to join him for dinner. You check the time, and estimate that that person is now sitting in a plane that’s cruising 500 nautical miles per hour away from you and your little apartment. It feels a little colder, a little emptier, the whirring noise of air conditioning keeping you company.

As you sit on the floor next to the table, you see that under the bowl is a folder piece of paper. You flip open the paper, smiling as you bring the bowl to your lips.

“Kunimi Akira, as promised, a recipe of Hinata Shouyou.”

_Hinata Shouyou_

_Serving: 1_

_Ingredients:_

_14 liters of water_

_17,500 calories of food_

_21 squirts of Santa Maria Novella_

“So that’s what it was,” you say as your room still smells like him. You continue.

_2 bottles of Natura Ekos sunscreen lotion_

_Half a bottle of ACRO THREE Men Shampoo_

_A bar of soap_

“How barbaric, not even a brand name.” You joke. 

_Week-worth of sunlight_

_1,900 calories of ice cream sandwich_

“His favorite.” You whisper. You’re down to the final item, and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs.

_And lastly, a heart full of Kunimi Akira._

You stare at your name, written in what appears to be an attempt to be romantic, with three hearts at the end of the line.

“You’re embarrassing.” You say, clutching your chest, hoping that the neighbors won’t hear the deafening beat of your heart. He’s never said that before, and he decides to say it for the first time on paper, and on a recipe? A confession hidden in a recipe? Only he would have thought of that.

But then again, together, when did you ever make sense? It’s your own language no one has to understand, no one has to speak it outside the world you built for the both of you.

You eat with a heavy heart and an arms that long for him. You decide that you’ll sleep on his side of the bed for the first time.

_I miss you, Shouyou,_ you whisper against your pillow, hoping it would reach São Paulo. 

\---

**You fly out to a familiar boy in an unfamiliar country.**

It starts with a call. Your phone begins to ring while you type some numbers in your office. You excuse yourself, thinking it was important. Your calls with Hinata were scheduled later at night, when its more convenient for him and it was only five in the afternoon. You answer your phone in the break room.

“Hey,” You greet.

“Hi,” He greets, casually.

“What’s wrong?”

He breathes into the line. “I miss you, Akira.”

You fall to the stool. Relief washing over you but shock is overwhelming you at the same time. It was the first time he called you Akira, the first time he said it with so much melancholy and longing. It has been months, almost a whole year, since the last time you saw each other. You’ll see him soon in a few more months, but it seems like Hinata, _Shouyou_ , cannot wait any longer.

“Shouyou,” You whisper to the line. “I miss you too.”

He sighs. “I wish time would go faster.”

“I know. I wish it would, too.”

You share a few more words before going back to your cubicle, finishing up the work for the day when a thought came across your mind. You ask permission from your superior, he allows you with a wink and a thumbs up. You run home and open your laptop, smiling as you input your card information. As you hit “Book a flight”, the phone rings again.

“Akira!” He exclaims, sounding happier than a while ago.

“Shouyou.” You greet.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, suddenly. His voice grew more worried.

You smile as you receive a confirmation e-mail and a flight number.

“No, nothing at all.” You say as you rest your head against the foot of the bed. “How’s your day?” 

\---

After two months, five days and a thirty-four hour flight, you finally reach São Paulo, Brazil in the evening, with Shouyou having no idea that you breathe the same air again after almost a year of distance. With the address he gave you back then so that you can send him something for his birthday, you show the address to the cab driver and he takes you to an apartment complex. As you bring down your small luggage, you walk silently and climb the flight of stairs.

 _4A, that’s his,_ you whisper as you quietly reach his door. You dial his number, and a phone inside rings. 

“Akira?” A voice greets on the other line. You stop breathing as you could feel Shouyou closer, your fingers trembling, wishing to just open the door and have him close to your chest again. You decide to wait and not ruin the surprise.

“Shouyou, hi.” You try to say, hiding the excitement from your voice.

“It’s too early there in Miyagi for you to call. You couldn’t sleep?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just missed you.” You say, truthfully.

“I’ll be home with you in a few days.” _Home isn’t a place where we go,_ you think.

“I know. I just wanted to ask you something.” You say.

“Hm? Sure.”

“What’s that dish you wanted me to try again?”

“Huh? Oh. _Coxinha_?” He asks.

“Yeah, that. Do you know where I could have that?”

“Hey, I taught you that back then! Did you forget about it?”

“Sorry, I forgot about it already.” You lie. You remember, but for the sake of this, you omit the truth.

“Tch. Alright. But I don’t know if there’s any good restaurant that serves that near your place.”

“Hm,” You say as you lean against the wall. “Who said I want to eat near my place?”

“You would go out of Miyagi to eat?” He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“Oh yeah. 18,173 kilometers away, even.” You say.

“That’s so far! But that sounds familiar.” He says against the line. You feel like he closed his eyes, deep in thought. You chuckle. _Take your time_.

Realization hits him. “Oh my god.” He whispers. “Oh my god, Akira.” He says again.

“Shouyou,” You say, thick with amity. “Open the door.”

In a matter of seconds, the door flies open and he falls into your arms. You immediately have arms full of Hinata Shouyou, after a time that felt forever. You cling onto him, tighter and tighter, never letting him go. You feel him hiccup against your chest. You pull him away to look at his face. Full of tears, you brush your thumb against his cheek. He leans onto your touch.

“You’re here,” He says.

“I’m home.” You say.

You kiss him, breathing in his scent. 

“You miss me that much, huh.” He says against your lips.

“Shut up.” You say, as you hold back your tears.

“Well,” He says, sniffing, his eyes suddenly filled with something else. “Show me what I’ve been missing, then.”

“Oh, I will.” You say as you kiss him again.

You laugh as he begins to drag you inside the apartment. You let yourself in.

\---

**It ends with a familiar boy in a familiar home.**

It’s a Sunday morning and you wake up to the loud chirping outside. Your eyes adjust at the bright rays coming from the balcony. You squint and see hints of your life. The mess on the coffee table, full of papers and energy drinks. Your eyes fall on the recently built shelf, with picture frames of you, of your graduation, of his team, of his friends, including a polaroid of you both, in this new small apartment in Osaka. Your eyes explore up and see the numerous trophies that belong to him on the top shelf, his medals yet to be put in a frame. You look at the balcony, the clothesline full of jerseys. Jerseys with your name, apparently. He insisted. You let him, anyway. You turn towards your side and meet a head full of sunshine, you bury your face on his crown. He reaches out to you and you lean in to his touch. You open your eyes for the final time, your eyes landing on a picture and two pieces of paper placed on the refrigerator with a large writing of “Recipes of Akira and Shouyou”. You smile as you bring him closer, drifting back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Kunihina supremacy, guys. I have nothing to offer but love and happiness for these two. They deserve the world! They now have a truly special place in my heart.
> 
> By the way, _Coxinha_ is a popular food in Brazil, that can be likened to chicken croquettes! Yum. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/inflamist)


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